Chapter 19 Coco
NINETEEN
Coco
Frenchmen Street Music Scene: Frenchmen Street is known for its live jazz, blues, and funk music venues. Unlike the tourist-heavy Bourbon Street, Frenchmen offers an authentic local music experience, beloved by residents.
The streets are quiet, the city sliding past my windows in soft bands of light. The engine hums beneath me, steady and controlled, and my body is anything but.
There is still a low, restless awareness coiled between my thighs, an echo I can’t shake no matter how far I put between myself and him.
My hands stay firm on the steering wheel, but my thoughts drift back to the alley, to the hard line of Ridge’s car beneath my palms, to the way his mouth took mine as if he had already made up his mind.
The memory moves through me in waves. His weight, the certainty of him. The way my body answered without asking permission.
Something inside me finally clicked into place, something I did not know had been missing until it was suddenly there.
Every nerve stays awake, sharp and reactive, like my body is still braced for him to touch me again.
We did not want to leave each other. That much is obvious. He was the one who pulled me onto him, turned me, and pressed me against the hood of his car. His hands were firm on my hips, leaving no question.
But then he stopped. Ridge always does that. Grounds the moment and names the line just after we cross it.
If it were up to me, I would have said screw it and let everything else burn. He is not built that way.
“You need to get home,” he told me, his voice rough, his gaze steady even when his body was not. “Your father’s going to be waiting.”
He was right. My father gave me tonight, but that freedom came with limits. I had already stretched them thin. I do not let myself think too hard about what would happen if he knew what had really kept me out.
Still, I can’t help but think that Ridge didn’t shut the door. He could have. He should have.
Instead, he stood there, his words saying one thing while his body said another. I can’t stop thinking about the way his hand shook when he let go of me.
His restraint loops through my head as I drive. The way he stopped himself. The way it cost him. There was no denial in it, no pretending this didn’t matter. Just a line he forced himself to hold.
I don’t know what that means yet. I don’t know what comes next.
But he didn’t walk away.
For now, that is enough to keep me breathing.
I turn onto St. Ann, the familiar streets guiding me closer to home, my chest tightening as the reality of it all settles in. Before I get there, I need to say this out loud. I need a witness.
She answers on the second ring. “Coco?”
There’s relief in her voice, edged with concern. “Where have you been? I tried you earlier. After what you just went through, you can’t disappear like that on me.”
“I know,” I say, appreciating that she’s concerned about me. “I’m driving. I just… I need to say this out loud before I get home.”
She doesn’t joke. She doesn’t fill the space. “Okay,” she says. “I’m here.”
The city slides past my windows in soft bands of light. I keep my eyes on the road, knuckles tightening on the wheel.
“After I left the lounge,” I say slowly, choosing each word like it might cut me if I’m careless. “Ridge showed up.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Showed up where?”
“Outside, when I was walking to my car. On Frenchman.”
Her breath shifts. I hear it through the line. “Coco.”
“I know,” I say. “I didn’t expect it either. He said he was driving by. Then he stopped pretending and admitted he was hoping I’d still be there.”
Delphine exhales. “Of course he was.”
“He didn’t come inside. He stayed back, watching.” My throat tightens at the memory. “I didn’t even know he was there at first.”
“And?”
I hesitate, the car humming beneath me, steady and controlled in a way I’m not. “Iggy came up behind me when I stepped outside and grabbed me to scare me. You know how he does.”
Her voice sharpens instantly. “Oh, God. I think I know where this is going.”
“Ridge, of course, didn’t know we were friends and he was messing around. He just saw hands on me.”
“Shit. Please tell me he didn’t shoot him.”
“Close. He was out of the car before I could blink,” I say. I can still hear the sound of the impact, feel the way the night went taut around us. “He dropped him. Hard.”
“Jesus,” Delphine mutters. “Is Iggy okay?”
“He’s fine. Embarrassed, and his jaw’s going to be sore.” I pause. “Ridge looked like he wanted the ground to open up once he realized.”
“And you?”
“I went after him,” I admit. “He was already walking away, but I didn’t want him leaving thinking the worst. Or thinking I was afraid of him.”
“You chased the man who just punched someone for you.”
“Yes.”
There’s a quiet laugh on the other end, not amused. “That tracks.”
“I tried to apologize,” I say. “For snapping. For not explaining.”
My fingers tighten on the wheel as I remember it. “He got into his car like he was done. Like that was it.”
“And?” Delphine asks.
“I walked to mine,” I say. “I didn’t turn around or chase him.”
“Something tells me it didn’t end there.”
I swallow. “He followed me anyway. Pulled up behind me.” I keep my eyes on the road. “We stood there for a second, doors open, pretending it was casual. Like we weren’t both already past that.”
Heat creeps up my neck just thinking about it. “We kissed. God, Del. It was hot. Unhinged. Like neither of us had any business stopping.”
“And he did,” she says.
“Yes.” The word comes out tight. “He stopped it. Said we couldn’t. That it was for the best.”
“And that scared you.”
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation. “Because it wasn’t just physical. If it were, I could deal with that.” I shake my head. “It mattered. To both of us.”
“That’s the part that ruins everything,” Delphine says quietly.
“I know.” My chest tightens as I take the turn toward home. “He made himself walk away. Made me leave. Even though I didn’t want to. Even though I don’t think he did either.”
“Did he apologize?”
“No,” I say. “But he looked like it cost him. Like it hurt to say it out loud.”
There’s a pause. I let the silence stretch.
“And now?” she asks.
“I want to be with him,” I say. “He’s right about the risks. His world. My father.”
“Yeah, he is, Co.”
“What happens if this turns into something people can use?” My grip tightens on the wheel.
“You’ve always said you don’t want that world,” she says. “Do you really want to invite it in?”
“Walking away is just as dangerous.”
She exhales softly. “That sounds like you already know this isn’t going to be clean, no matter how it ends.”
“I know,” I say. “I just don’t want it decided for me.”
“Are you going to tell Laurent?”
“Hell no,” I say immediately. “I need a second where this is mine. Where I get to figure out what it is before he turns it into leverage.”
Delphine hums under her breath. “Then you shouldn’t rush it because you react emotionally.”
“I’m not planning on it.”
“Good,” she says. “Keep your footing. Don’t let it drag you somewhere you can’t get back from.”
The words settle in, not comforting, but steadying.
“I can do that,” I say. “For now.”
The iron gate at Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 closes behind me with a dull, final sound. The noise of the street drops away.
I slow without thinking about it. It calms me here, always has. My shoulders ease. My breathing evens out.
No one asks who I belong to or what side I’m on. The names carved into stone don’t care who my father is or who I kissed last night. They don’t react. They just stay.
The raised tombs cast long shadows across the paths, the late-morning sun still low enough to give everything definition. Names and dates are carved into weathered granite, their edges softened by time. Proof that everyone ends up reduced to the same two lines, no matter what they were in life.
This place has always been ours. Mine and Iggy’s. A place that doesn’t take sides in a city that loves to divide people into winners and expendables. Here, no one is special.
I spot him leaning against one of the larger tombs, the same one we have used as a meeting point for years. His arms are crossed tight across his chest, his posture defensive. The bruise along his jaw is already darkening, ugly against his skin.
Guilt nudges at me, sharp but brief. I push it aside as I close the distance.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice easy.
He straightens. “Hey?” His mouth twists. “That’s it? Hey?”
I stop a few feet away. “Black and blue suits you. Is that what you were going for?”
“Funny,” he says. “I thought you might want to check whether I was still breathing.”
“That is why I asked you to meet me.” I glance at his jaw. “You look functional. But seriously, are you okay?”
“That’s better.” His expression softens a notch. “Yeah. I’ll live. I just didn’t realize you had one of the biggest men you don’t cross in this city acting as your personal bodyguard. Or is he your boyfriend now?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say too fast, heat climbing my neck. “And I’m sorry about what happened. He has a protection complex, I guess. Ever since the kidnapping, he assumes every movement near me is a threat.”
Iggy snorts. “Most people do not find my skinny ass intimidating. Good to know I can still set Ridge Stone off.” He rubs his jaw. “Also good to know he didn’t use the gun he was waving around. That part was memorable.”
“I know.” I step closer despite myself. “I’m really sorry.”
“So what is the deal with him? A little Stockholm?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” he repeats, dry. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
I don’t say anything because Iggy doesn’t need to hear what I don’t even understand myself.
Silence settles between us, the kind that only exists between people who have known each other long enough to know when not to poke the wound. My gaze drifts to the marble behind him. The light gray is cool and smooth, with veins of darker gray running through it. Hard. Still beautiful.
Iggy exhales and shifts his weight.